A/N: Got this idea about a week and a half ago after I saw a post on tumblr about Juliet's dog and I thought "I bet Shawn could get into some mischief involving that dog." However, just minutes before I got the idea, I got an idea for a Chuck oneshot. I wrote that one first and it came out a lot easier than this one. (It's called Sarah vs. Babysitting if you're interested.) Anyway, I started writing this about as soon as I was done with that one, and since all the Chuck episode titles are "Chuck vs. _" I got the idea for this title. Anyway, hope you like the story. :)
P.S. I love beagles...I have 2. :)
Shawn vs. The Beagle
Shawn didn't normally break into his girlfriend's house.
Well, that might not be completely accurate.
Shawn didn't normally break into his girlfriend's house without a legitimate reason.
Although some might say that being out of chocolate chip Eggo waffles and knowing your girlfriend has a whole box of them in her freezer is a legitimate reason.
The cops might not say that. However, his girlfriend was the cops. Or at least, a detective at the Santa Barbara Police Department.
Besides, he had a key.
That she had hidden in a ceramic turtle in a potted plant, out of a normal person's view. But he was Shawn Spencer, Psychic Extraordinaire.
Or at least that's what he told the cops.
He was actually a fake psychic who merely possessed inhuman observational skills. But he was a damn fine fake psychic.
However, on this day, his mind distracted by his desire for chocolate chip waffles, Shawn failed to notice that he had left the door just slightly ajar.
This normally wouldn't be a problem. But Shawn's girlfriend, Detective Juliet O'Hara, was the owner of a beagle named Tucker. And anyone who has ever had a beagle knows that they're master escape artists.
So although the door was almost unnoticeably ajar, Tucker managed to get through it.
And in his waffle reverie, Shawn Spencer and his miraculous observational skills failed to notice the beagle running out the door, happy to be running free.
As Shawn began to clean up his waffle mess, he realized that he had yet to see the beagle that always seemed to greet him at some point in his visit. He shrugged it off at first, but when he began to leave, he noticed that the door was wide open.
That was when Shawn Spencer, Psychic Detective, realized he had an urgent case to solve.
He glanced at the time. 3 o'clock. Jules did not always get home at a set time, but when she did get home, it was never earlier than 5. That gave Shawn at least two hours to find his girlfriend's dog. He was going to need some help.
"Gus, I need your help and your dog expertise," Shawn spoke into the phone. A pause. "You have to know something about dogs; you're Magic Head!" Another pause. "I lost Juliet's dog." Another. "I may or may not have broken into her house." And another. "We were out of Eggos!" And another. "Not the chocolate chip kind! Look, Gus. I need you to help me. We've been dating for a while, but I'm not sure where the threshold of forgiveness lies for if you lose someone's dog. She loves that thing." A final pause. "Thanks, buddy."
Shawn hung up the phone and began surveying his surroundings.
What clues should he be looking for in order to find an escaped beagle?
Shawn's eyes zoned in on a small puppy print in the mud of Juliet's front yard. That was something. Now all he had to do was find the muddy paw prints and follow them. Just like an episode of Blue's Clues.
Shawn spotted the paw prints on the cement driveway and followed them up toward the road. They faded quickly, but Shawn could see that the pup had gone left.
Scanning both the sidewalk and the street, Shawn kept on in the direction he knew the dog must have gone. His eyes were peeled for any other clues that may lead him to Tucker.
Shawn was deep in his search mode when he was shocked out of it by the feel of his phone vibrating, followed by Gus's personalized ring tone.
"Hey, man. I'm still on Juliet's street, almost to the corner of Peach. So far I only know the general direction that the thing went." Gus spoke on the other end. "Cool, I see you."
Shawn hung up his iPhone as he saw the blueberry rounding the corner in front of him. The car pulled over to the side of the road and Gus climbed out.
"He went this way," Shawn stated, continuing forward. I saw his paw prints going this way, but they faded, so I don't know how to tell where he went from here!" Shawn exclaimed, running his hand through his hair. "Jules is going to kill me."
"Let's just keep going this way. If we see anyone outside, we can ask if they saw him."
Shawn nodded and continued. As he reached the corner, he paused and assessed each possible route. Shawn's vision zeroed in on an area to the right. Tucker had marked his spot.
"Right," Shawn told Gus. "He peed in that bush over there."
"What makes you so sure that was Tucker?" Gus asked, looking around the street.
Shawn rolled his eyes and placed his middle finger to his temple before walking to the right.
"I hate when you do that, Shawn! I know you're not psychic."
As Shawn passed the puddle of dog urine, he saw a garage door open and an older lady gardening in her front yard. Shawn walked up the pathway, Gus in tow.
"Excuse me ma'am?" Shawn greeted. "My name is Long John Spencer and this is my associate Green T Guster. We're looking for a lost dog."
The woman gave Shawn a strange look as he said their names, but retained interest in what he was saying.
"It's a beagle about yay high," Shawn moved his hand from four feet off the ground to three, and finally to about a foot and a half. "He's got a white tip on his tail and comes to the names Tucker, Tuck, Beagle, Mr. Beagle, Little
Beagle, Little Boy Dog—"
Gus cut Shawn off quickly, thinking the woman had enough of information. "Have you seen the dog, ma'am?"
"Oh, yes, dear. I believe I saw the dog you're looking for running past just about five minutes ago. I believe he went that way," the woman answered, pointing in the direction opposite of the way Shawn and Gus had come.
"Thank you, ma'am," Gus replied politely as he and Shawn turned to follow their
"I need to think like this dog," Shawn said as they walked away. He dropped to his hands and knees and put his nose to the ground.
"What the hell are you doing, Shawn?"
Sitting up to put his middle finger to his temple, Shawn replied, "I'm channeling Tucker."
Gus rolled his eyes and followed Shawn as he crawled along the sidewalk. "Do you have any idea the bacteria that are on that sidewalk, Shawn? There could be streptococcus or staphylococcus—if you get meningitis, I am not taking care of you when you're sick!"
"Shush, I am feeling his vibes. Wait! I can hear him," Shawn once again put his hand to his head, "in here."
"You cannot, Shawn. We both know you're not psychic and I hear the barking too."
Shawn shot to his feet and began running. Gus stared after him for a moment and then began to follow close behind. Shawn looped around the corner and exclaimed, "Ah-ha!" before he was in Gus's sights.
Gus made it around the corner in time to see the small beagle sprinting away from Shawn, seemingly enjoying the chase.
"I did not think this through thoroughly," Shawn admitted as he watched the beagle run from him. "Maybe I should borrow one of my dad's fishing nets."
"You have to approach him slowly," Gus informed. "He's going to run away if you run toward him. He thinks it's a game."
Shawn's eyes followed the beagle as he stopped to pee in a bush.
"Shh," Shawn told Gus as he began to tiptoe closer to the small dog.
The beagle began to slowly trot along once again, not noticing Shawn creeping up on him.
When he was sure he was close enough, Shawn reached forward and grasped Tucker's collar and then got closer to scoop him up.
"Got him!" Shawn announced. "Juliet will never know. Let's get him home."
"You better make sure the door is closed this time, Shawn."
"Of course I'll close the door, Gus; I already ate my waffles."
When Juliet arrived home that night at 6:30, she went into the kitchen and looked into the freezer, trying to find a quick, easy meal. The only thing she saw was an open box of chocolate chip Eggo waffles, which she had thought weren't open before.
Deciding to sit down for a few minutes before trying again to find something to eat, Juliet sat down on the couch.
She kicked off her heels and almost as soon as she did, Tucker ran into the room and jumped on her lap.
"Hey, Tuck," she greeted, petting his floppy ears. Suddenly she noticed the dirt that was covering her skirt and her couch. It was coming from the beagle's paws.
The odd thing about this, however, was that the only outside area Tucker could get to through his doggy door was her backyard which was fully astro-turf.
Looking at her dog's paws and thinking back to the Eggos, Juliet rolled her eyes and laughed.